In Another Life
by Science Fantasy
Summary: REVISED AND RERELEASED! AU set during what would have been DMC. Jack and his crew go on what should be an uneventful voyage... but that changes when Will and Norrington decide to tag along. Features OFC.
1. Day 1

**Title: **In Another Life

**Disclaimer:** Pirates of the Caribbean belongs to Disney, not me.

**Author's Note: **This is actually an edited re-release of the story from last year. Hopefully, it's even better than before and reaches some new people who didn't get the chance to read it last time around. There are two things that you should know about this story before you read it. One is that the chapters are each one specific day of the voyage (the first chapter being Day 1), and the sections within the chapters are the "memorable" things that happened that day. Basically, the story will read more like scenes in a movie or a series of memories than a traditional novel. Also, be forewarned: extremely pirate-y accent ahead! One of the characters (in addition to saying "ye" a lot, which should be read as more of an informal way of saying "you" instead of with the over-bearing long E sound) will be constantly dropping the G's off of her -ING's (sailing becomes sailin'). Hopefully, it will help give the reader a better idea of how this person should sound when she talks.

* * *

The gangplank creaked under Will's feet as he took his first steps off of the dock towards the massive ship before him. As he made his way up the rickety incline, Will tried not to ponder the wisdom, or lack there of, of what he was doing. He'd already sailed all this way from Port Royal, he shouldn't be having second thoughts now. On the other hand, boarding a pirate ship out of Tortuga, again, might not be the best course of action that he could have decided upon. Intelligent decision-making or not, however, he was here now. The ship was bustling with the activity of the crewmen preparing for the voyage ahead, and Will soon found himself dodging and weaving through the throng to get to the center of all the commotion; as per usual, that center was Jack Sparrow.

"Jack! Jack Sparrow!" He called out, waving his arm above his head to catch the attention of the flamboyant Captain, who seemed to be busy ordering the crew around the ship. And by _ordering_, Will meant that Jack was trying to steer as much rum in his direction as possible.

"Ah! Mr. Turner! Just the whelp I wanted to see!" Jack replied as Will got closer. With his usual swagger, Jack turned, stepped towards Will, grabbed him by the sleeve, and dragged him over to the main mast. "Now, Will," He began, giving Will a good poke in the chest, "It's absolute chaos up here. I need you to direct my ever-so-well-meaning, yet-clearly-inept-crew while I scurry into me cabin and take _inventory_," He began to crane his neck as if looking for something. Will furrowed his brow in confusion, glancing over his shoulder to see what could be going on behind him that was so fascinating. Jack soon seemed to find what it was that he was looking for, and swiftly reached over and snatched a bottle of rum out of a crate being carried by a passing crewman. "Savvy?" Jack grinned before taking a swig.

"But Jack, I –" Will stammered helplessly, already regretting not turning back when he'd had the chance.

"Knew you'd understand, mate!" Jack cut him off, slapping him on the shoulder. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll just be on my merry way."

Will opened his mouth to protest, but Jack silenced him with a wave of his hand, then took another swig of rum before pushing past Will and heading towards his cabin.

"Not so fast, _Captain_," A voice from somewhere behind Will chimed in, which was quickly followed by the sound of a sword being drawn.

Jack stopped short in his tracks, pausing for a moment in surprise. "I know that voice," He muttered, swinging back around.

Will looked on in bewilderment as Jack quickly found himself face-to-face with the sharp end of a sword, with, strangely enough, what appeared to be James Norrington at the other end. At least, he thought it was James Norrington. The Commodore appeared more disheveled than even Jack himself, with a scruffy beard and a tangled mop of brown hair falling over his sun burnt face. Norrington still wore his old uniform, wig and all, but it was now filthy, tattered, and barely recognizable. All of the crisp, white brocade now drooped sadly from his coat and had acquired a decidedly muddy-brown tint. The wig, why Norrington would cleave so fiercely to such a ghastly-looking object Will couldn't even begin to fathom, was frazzled and matted with God only knew what, and sat under a hat that hadn't fared any better. However, Will had to give the man credit for maintaining the same air of smug superiority as always, though he now swayed a little from the over-abundance of alcohol in his system. Even as a filthy drunk, Norrington was still a commanding, even imposing, figure to behold.

"Commodore!" Jack exclaimed, uneasily taking the blade between his thumb and forefinger to push it away.

"You weren't about to leave without me, now? I'm hurt." Norrington said haughtily, pretending to look disappointed. Despite Jack's effort to disarm him, Norrington lifted the sword again, holding it surprisingly steadily mere inches away from Jack's face.

"Of course not, Commodore," Jack smiled nervously, clasping his hands together.

"_Former_ Commodore," Norrington corrected him grimly, "All thanks to you." Norrington sneered as if sizing up whether of not it would be a challenge to finish Jack off right there and then, but seemed to decide against such a rash action and instead re-sheathed his sword with a dramatic sweep of his arm.

"Well then," Jack stepped back uneasily, "I guess you two gents would be wanting to get all settled in and what not, eh?" He gave Will and Norrington his best attempt at a friendly smile as he finished the question. When this garnered no response from either of them, he learned in and said, as if in confidence, "I've got just the pirate for the job."

Jack turned and threw his head back, cupping his hands around his mouth to call to someone farther up the mast. Will glanced uncomfortably in Norrington's direction. The former Commodore was standing with his arms crossed, a look of boredom and dissatisfaction on his face. Will took a step away from him.

"Oi! Charlie!" Jack yelled, then wheeled around to face them again. "Give it a moment, mates," He said with feigned reassurance, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and beginning to whistle to himself. Just then, a rope from the rigging dropped down beside him, and Jack took an overly-exaggerated step to the side as one of the crewmen slid down.

"Ye called?" She asked Jack with a flip of her hair when she landed.

Will blinked. It was a woman – a girl, really – who looked to be about his own age, maybe even a year or two younger. She was only a few inches shorter than him, give or take, with a thin frame and a wavy tumble of dirty blonde hair that was secured beneath a faded red bandana she wore in cap-fashion. Will was surprised by the feminine delicacy of her facial features and the softness of her sea-grey eyes, what with her being a pirate and all that; he supposed that is it weren't for the sweat and grime smudged across her face she might have been considered attractive. She wore what looked like it had once been a lacy, scarlet off-the-shoulder dress, though the garment had been ripped, stained, and faded nearly beyond any semblance to what it had been intended to be. The lace lining the neckline and elbow-length sleeves was fraying, and it had even been pulled off of the fabric in several places so that it hung from her like moss from a willow tree. The middle section of the dress was covered by an off-white corset that, though in equally bad shape as its counterpart, still managed to fulfill its duties to the girl's waist and cleavage. Will couldn't have said what the bottom half of the dress may have looked like, as it looked like it had been torn off a long time ago. The fraying edges of the fabric that had managed to emerge from beneath the corset never quite made it past her knees, but the dress had been torn so asymmetrically that the back was drastically longer than the front, and because of this had suffered even more damage than the rest of the garment: it was shredded up to the point of looking more like layers of dangling ribbons than a proper skirt. To make up for these inadequacies, the girl sported a worn out pair of muddy-brown colored trousers and knee-high boots. Slung low on her hips was a thick leather belt from which hung a sword and a pistol on her left and right sides, respectively.

Will looked back over at Jack, who now seemed to be at least somewhat at ease for the first time since Norrington had confronted him. He had to hand it to Jack, the man certainly did attract some of the oddest characters that Will had ever seen.

"Yes, love. Could you show our two guests here around the _Pearl _while I work in me cabin?" Jack said, oblivious to Will's surprise and Norrington's utter indifference.

"Aye, Jack. That I could," She nodded, turning towards Will and extending a hand towards him. When she did, Will noticed that she wore a pair of fingerless gloves on each hand, with an extra layer of cloth strips tied over her palms and wrists. He would later find out it was because she worked with ship's rigging full time and had need to protect her hands from rope burns and similar injuries.

"I'm Charlie." She smiled pleasantly, shaking his hand when he'd finally composed himself enough to offer it.

"Will Turner," He answered, dumbfounded.

The girl shifted to face Norrington, and held out her hand for him just as she had done for Will. He regarded it coolly, looking her up and down in unresponsive silence.

"I'm Charlie," She repeated, but Norrington didn't even uncross his arms. "Charlotte," She tried again, stepping a little closer to him and making an effort to speak patronizingly slowly, "Charlotte Lumley. It's a pleasure to meet ye."

With an annoyed sigh, Norrington finally relented and shook her hand.

"Fantastic! Now that you're all friends and the like, I'll be –" Jack paused to point in the general direction of his cabin "—more over… that way." He quickly ran off, clearly glad to get away from Norrington.

"Well then, I'm guessin' we'll start with the crew's quarters," Charlie shrugged, leading them below.

* * *

"Your name's Will, then?" Charlie asked him as she pointed out a spare hammock he could use.

"Yes," He affirmed, "Will Turner."

"Any relation to –"

"Bootstrap?" Will interrupted her before she could finish asking her question. "He was my father."

Charlie nodded perceptively, and then turned around to face Norrington, who was hanging back near the hammock she'd designated as his, arms once again folded tightly across his chest, staring up into the rafters.

"Oi, quiet one," She addressed him, "I don't believe I caught _yer_ name."

Norrington lowered his gaze to her and raised his eyebrows contemptuously.

"It's Ja–" Will began to answer for him, but Charlie cut him off.

"I didn't ask ye," She said, placing one hand on her hip and taking a few measured steps towards Norrington. "I asked the man with the dead animal on his head."

"Why you –" Norrington said venomously, uncrossing his arms and moving towards her, "You little degenerate! You're not fit to scrape the muck off of my boots!"

"And an ample supply of muck it is," Charlie quipped. "However, I do believe that on this ship, it'll be _ye_ who is doin' the boot-scrapin'." She finished her retort nonchalantly and continued to advance on him.

"Pirate scum!" Norrington spat back at her.

"Better watch yer mouth, mate. Ye really shouldn't be speakin' to yer superiors like that." Charlie cocked her head to the side, as if issuing him a challenge.

Norrington sunk back into his sullen silence and refolded his arms, fuming over her words yet finding himself unable to efficiently counter them.

"Now, that was quite an outburst to be had over a ruined wig," Charlie noted. Having made her point clear, she slipped into a softer tone of voice. She took her hand off of her hip and positioned herself squarely in front of Norrington. "Makes me wonder what value it has for ye to inspire such harsh words," She went on; looking into his eyes curiously as she slowly ran her fingers through the ratty white wig, much to Norrington's chagrin. "I'll ask ye one more time – what's yer name?"

"Norrington. James Norrington." He answered at last, brushing her hand away, but not making any other effort to remove himself from her presence.

For a moment, all was quiet except for the sound of the other crew members rushing about above deck. Charlie leaned in close to Norrington, keeping her eyes fixed on his, until she was only inches away from his face.

"Welcome aboard the _Black Pearl_, James Norrington."

* * *

"Rum-running?" Norrington asked her with a fair amount of distaste, tugging at the lapel of his coat.

"Aye, rum-runnin'," Charlie answered, gathering the rope back in from over the side of the ship, raising the wooden bucket on the end of the line out of the water. She looped the thick cable into a neat pile at her feet, paying more mind to the rope than she did to him.

"Sounds awfully mundane for a pirate of Jack Sparrow's caliber," He said, leaning back against the railing.

"A few members of the crew, myself included, have some friends here in Tortuga in need of a favor or two. Jack was happy to help out. Besides, the voyage will take less than a fortnight, nothin' to be frettin' over at all." As she finished, Charlie hoisted the full bucket of sea water over the railing and handed it off to Norrington.

"Next time," She said impatiently, wagging a finger in Norrington's face, "Don't drag me into it when the Captain asks ye to swab the deck, eh?"

"Aye," Norrington replied sarcastically, snorting a discourteous laugh.

Charlie rolled her eyes and sighed in frustration. "And use that wig of yers instead of a brush – that's all it's good for here. Now, if ye will excuse me, I have to get back to checkin' the riggin' before we set sail."

When Norrington saw that she had made it back up the mainmast and was safely preoccupied with her work, he carefully set the bucket down. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching him, he slipped away, leaving the menial chore for later – or maybe just for some other unfortunate soul aboard the ship.

* * *

Norrington sighed discontentedly. They were now well on their way, and she hadn't come down from the bloody rigging yet. He managed to wait for a few more moments before he ceased pacing beside the railing and strode purposefully over to the base of the main mast. When he arrived, he clasped his hands firmly behind his back, and looked up at her, waiting.

"Miss Lumley, could you come down here for a moment?" He commanded firmly, growing even more impatient, "I know you can hear me, Charlotte."

From where he now stood, Norrington could see her leaning over one of the spars to get a good look at who was calling to her. Not that there had really been doubt as to who it was, no one else on the ship called her _Charlotte_ for fear of the repercussions, Norrington figured that she was more looking for someone else she could pretend to get him mixed up with. There wasn't really such a person around, as the former Commodore had a way of scattering crowds wherever he went aboard the ship. Apparently, the pirates weren't too keen on having someone who used to order their friends and crewmates hanged in such close proximity. Norrington vaguely wondered why it didn't seem to bother Charlie in the least as he watched her reluctantly begin her descent.

"Aye, I can hear ye," She replied agitatedly as she came down, "And I'd thank ye to refer to me as Charlie from here on out." She came down to a safe distance on the same rope from earlier, then jumped the last few feet, landing squarely in front of him and once again putting her hands on her hips.

"My apologies, Miss Lumley. But, I am afraid that I do not consider you and I to be on such good terms as needed for it to be entirely appropriate for me to refer to you in that manner," Norrington said dryly.

"We're on a bloody _pirate_ ship, mate. For Christ's sake, drop the act, won't ye?" She glared at him, tapping her foot in annoyance.

"Act?" Norrington asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

Charlie sighed with irritation, looking back up at the mast behind her as if contemplating her escape. Norrington cleared his throat, bringing her attention back to him. She glared at him darkly for a moment before staring crossly into the distance, then looking to Norrington again.

"Well, what is it ye want, eh?" She asked resignedly, changing the subject.

"I merely wished to inform you that I had finished swabbing the deck." He shrugged.

Charlie took in a sharp breath, and then noisily let it out again. She looked down at the deck and shook her head, then pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

"Two things, mate," She said angrily, looking back up at him, "One: Ye do not need to be reportin' to me every time ye do what yer told. Two: I been watchin' ye, and I would say 'twas Mr. Cotton who just finished swabbin' the deck – not ye."

"A little ingenuity never hurt anyone," Norrington smirked in response.

"Oh. Well, my apologies, Mr. Norrington," She said, smugly imitating the cadence and tenor of his voice, "But I'm afraid that I do not consider that sort of thing to be entirely appropriate while aboard this ship." She dropped the impersonation, and leaned closer to him, "Consider this yer first warnin', savvy?" She hissed.

"Of course," Norrington replied in a tone that could be best described as a verbal eye roll.

Charlie just scoffed wordlessly at him, turning to climb back up the mast. Norrington took a step back, letting her begin her ascent before he spoke again.

"Charlotte," He addressed her, stopping her in her tracks. "May I ask you something?"

"Aye, ye may." She sighed impatiently as she looked back down at him.

"Why do you spend so much time up there?" He continued with a good measure of genuine curiosity.

Charlie smiled to herself for the first time all afternoon. There was a moment in which she shook her head and looked upwards as if contemplating something, then resumed making her way up to the crow's nest.

"I asked you a question, Miss Lumley." Norrington called out, irritated that she wasn't answering him.

"That ye did," She said, pausing to glance back down at him, "But I only agreed to the askin' of it, not the answerin'." She ginned self-satisfactorily, then took one hand away from the mast to give him a girlish wave as she mouthed the word _goodbye_.

"Bloody pirates," Norrington muttered to himself as he watched her climb the rest of the way to the top.

* * *

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	2. Day 3

**Title: **In Another Life

**Disclaimer:** Pirates of the Caribbean belongs to Disney, not me.

* * *

"So, how do you know Jack?" Will asked, taking a bite out of the roll Charlie had just given him.

She was silent for moment and smiled softly to herself as she contemplated his question. The rest of the crew, most of whom were sitting on either side of the long wooden table in the dim mess hall, grew quiet as well.

"Just good luck, I suppose," Charlie continued down the line of crewmen with the basket of rolls. "I met him when I was a workin' girl in a tavern back in Tortuga," She went on, pausing to give Norrington a pointed look when she handed him a roll. She then took her own seat at the table across from Will, taking a moment to settle in before getting on with the story.

"The way I figure it, I owe near everythin' to Jack Sparrow. Helped me out in a time of need, he did – gave me a new life, better than the one I had been livin' all by my lonesome. Jack got me off the streets and onto a ship. I don't know why Jack made me for the sailin' type nor why he persisted so in gettin' me to join him on the _Pearl_; but I can't say I'm sorry he did. Been near a year since I met Jack, and I been piratin' ever since."

"And the world's a better place for it," Gibbs raised his mug, rousing a small cheer from the rest of the crew.

"Thankee, Mr. Gibbs," Charlie blushed, raising her own mug in return.

* * *

Jack unrolled another map, laying it flat on his desk. Taking out a few measuring instruments, he began re-plotting their course. The ship was three days out and should have been in sight of the island chain by now.

_Must have drifted off course during the night,_ Jack thought, taking another swig of rum. Bloody pain this business was becoming, he mused, leaning back in his chair, all the while growing increasingly frustrated with the whole affair. He absent-mindedly took out his compass and opened it, even though his more recent experiences with said instrument had proved less than helpful. He watched the dial spin dizzily before it seemed to settle in the general direction of the door across the room, at which there was a knock within moments of the arrow ceasing its flighty twirling. Jack raised his eyebrows curiously and quickly snapped the lid shut.

"Come in," He called, pocketing the compass and turning his attention back to the map. He heard the door swing open, but did not look up from the document before him.

"Hello Jack," Charlie smiled as she entered the cabin.

"Charlie love! What brings you to these parts, eh?" He replied, pretending to be preoccupied with the map.

She shrugged, stepping farther into the room in an almost sheepish manner. She shut the door behind her and crossed the room to stand beside him, peering over his shoulder at the papers on his desk.

"Still at work, I see," She remarked, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other on his desk, casually leaning over the large map.

"Indeed I am," Jack said, giving her hand a sideways glance as he reclined back in the chair. "You know how it is, love. Courses to plot, maps to review, compasses to…" He paused, smiling awkwardly. "Well. Suffice to say it's all very intriguing."

"I'm sure it is," Charlie laughed, stepping around in front of him and then taking a seat on the desk, blocking his view of the map. "Ye know, Jack," She said, "I think ye have been spendin' far too much time in here as of late."

"I agree completely," Jack grinned roguishly, embellishing his words with a wave of his hand.

"Ye should spend more time on deck with the crew – we'd all love to have ye about more often." Charlie cocked her head to the side and smiled.

"As I'm sure you should," Jack acquiesced, slowly rising from his chair. "After all," He continued, "I am your dearly beloved Captain for good reason. And, as dearly beloved Captain, I shall agree to grant the wishes of my adoring crew." He sauntered as close to her as he could get then placed a hand on the edge of the desk beside her leg. With a slow and exaggerated motion he leaned over the desk like she had earlier, although such an action had positioned him over Charlie, not the map.

"We have an accord, then?" She asked sweetly, tilting her head back to look up at him.

"I believe we do," Jack answered her, leaning in closer to her. With his free hand he began to slowly reach back for his compass, hoping to retrieve and review it without her noticing.

The moment was terribly compromising, the sort of situation that Jack prided himself on being able to weasel his way into. However, just as he was beginning to contemplate the opportune nature of it all, he heard the door on the other side of the room being flung open again.

"Excuse me, Captain," Mr. Gibbs said as he barged into the cabin. Jack sighed and pulled back, abandoning his quest for the compass.

"I'm sorry to interrupt – but I've had some of the crew approach me today with complaints about Mr. Norrington, sir. Seems he's been passing off his chores to the others aboard the ship. Now, I was kind and abided him the first few times, but this is starting to get out of hand," Gibbs continued, taking a few more steps into the cabin as he did.

"Again?" Charlie exclaimed, looking over her shoulder at Gibbs.

"Aye," He nodded in response.

Charlie let out an agitated sigh as she turned to Jack. "Let me handle this, won't ye?" She said crossly, hopping down from the desk.

"Of course," Jack held out an arm to wave her off. When her back was turned, he started to reach for the compass again, but decided against it when he saw Gibbs giving him an odd look and instead clenched his hand into a fist in frustration.

"Thankee," Charlie called back at him as she left. In reply, Jack forced a fake smile and a wave back at her so she wouldn't catch on to his sour mood.

"By your leave, Captain," Mr. Gibbs said after she'd left, backing towards the door.

"Aye," Jack shooed him away, then slumped back down into his chair in a huff.

When he was alone again, he took out the compass. He left it closed, holding it out at an arm's length for a few seconds and studying it from different angles as he pondered. He then held the compass still and gave it a good hard look before he finally opened it again. The dial spun wildly.

* * *

She found him in the crew's quarters, lounging in his hammock, his hat pulled down over his face.

"I'd like to have a word with ye," Charlie called out to him as she approached, "If ye don't mind." She finished derisively, snatching the hat off of his head and throwing it to the ground.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Norrington replied, annoyed. He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the hammock nearest to her.

"Well, that's just too bad for ye, now ain't it? I told you not to pass off yer chores no more, and now Mr. Gibbs says he's had the crew complainin' to him about ye! What's more, I come down here and find ye havin' a bloody nap while the rest of the crew works!" She fumed, making a sour face and placing her one hand on her hip while gesturing wildly with the other.

He said nothing in response, so she cursed under her breath and began to storm off; but she spun back around and approached him again before she even got half way to the stairs. Norrington jumped out of the hammock and onto his feet when he saw her coming back, taking on a defensive stance against the verbal onslaught that he was certain awaited him.

"And another thing," She ranted as she came back around, "I don't know where ye get off orderin' the crew about as ye do, but it stops here and now, do ye understand me? Ye have no authority to be doin' that, and ye bloody know it." Her anger seemed to be burning itself out as she spoke, so Norrington decided that it might just be best to let her go on in hopes that she would simply wear herself out soon enough.

"I had expected more of ye, James," She sighed, turning away for the second time. This time, she only made it a few steps before she went back to him again. She held out her index finger as if to make a point, but then withdrew it, biting her lip and shaking her head as she thought up something more suitable to say. As per usual, Norrington's expression remained stoic and impassive.

"I thought I told ye to be getting' rid of that dreadful wig," She finally muttered before turning away yet again, ready to give into the idea that he really was just another lost cause after all.

"Wait a moment," Norrington finally spoke up, quickly reaching out and taking a hold of her arm. "I apologize for causing you any trouble, Miss Lumley, but I-"

"Bloody hell, mate," Charlie interjected without facing him, "Won't ye just call me Charlie? I might even settle for Charlotte if ye would rather, but please, no more of this 'Miss Lumley' business, eh?"

"Alright, _Charlotte_," Norrington relented, letting go of her arm as she turned to look at him. He reluctantly removed his wig and placed it on the hammock beside him.

"That's better," Charlie said quietly. "And don't be returnin' to any old habits, now," She attempted to warn him jokingly, but there was a rawness around the edges of her voice that prevented any true levity from coming through, "I don't have any desire to be seein' that thing again."

"Is that an order?" Retorted gruffly, glancing back at the ruined wig lying lifelessly on the swinging hammock.

Charlie snorted and made an appalled face, as if she hadn't expected the utter lack of sincerity in his answer. She snatched up the wig and then turned on her heel and stormed away from him.

Norrington opened his mouth as if to call out to her, but then seemed to think better of it. With a sigh, he slowly sunk back down into the hammock without saying a word to her.

* * *

"So, where's dear Elizabeth, eh? Off gallivanting with naval men of slightly lesser rank than Commodore?" Jack inquired. He took a hold of a near by rope, pulling the line taught when he leaned into it and swung closer to Will.

Will more or less ignored Jack's intrusion into his personal space. He was becoming somewhat used to the Captain's odd mannerisms. He just kept his eyes on the sea before him, his gaze reaching all the way to the horizon.

"She's in Port Royal," He answered simply, tucking a loose lock of his dark hair back behind his ear when the wind blew it into his face.

"Lemme guess, yourself and bonnie ole what's-her-face had a fight, so you scurried aboard my ship to escape the wrath of said strumpet," Jack conjectured, grinning triumphantly at Will as he swung back on the rope.

Will cocked his head to the side, raised his eyebrows, and pinched his lips together, indicating that Jack was more or less correct.

"I'll tell you what, mate," Jack went on, clapping Will on the shoulder, "It never works."

* * *

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	3. Day 4

**Title: **In Another Life

**Disclaimer:** Pirates of the Caribbean belongs to Disney, not me.

_

* * *

_

The ship rocked rhythmically beneath Norrington's feet as he made his way over to the railing on the _Pearl_'s port side. The last rays of the sun were fading away, the softly lit western horizon bleeding away its color and giving way to the great black abyss of the night sky. To the east, both the sky and the sea were dotted with the glimmer of the evening's first stars and their reflections, and the silvery sliver of the moon that was slowly rising higher and higher overhead. It was quite picturesque actually, Norrington mused as he strolled along the deck.

Taking his eyes off of the ship's surroundings, Norrington glanced up at the helm, where Jack had positioned himself sometime during the late afternoon. They were going to be sailing through the night to make up for lost time, and even the Captain himself was planning on weathering it out with the rest of the crew. Jack stood proudly at the wheel, every now and again making fine adjustments to their course.

Barely managing not to roll his eyes at the sight, Norrington redirected his gaze back towards the direction in which he was heading. Someone, appearing only as a silhouette in the dim light, was already there, leaning nonchalantly against the rail.

"Good evening, Charlotte," Norrington addressed her as he approached.

"Evenin', James," She replied coolly.

Norrington leaned against the railing next to her, turning his head to look over at her when he spoke, "Which shift will you be working tonight?" He asked.

"First," Charlie answered simply. A gentle sea breeze picked up, ruffling her hair and the loose pieces of fabric hanging from her dress.

"May I inquire as to what post you have been assigned?" Norrington noted that though he kept his eyes on her when he talked to her, she had her eyes out on the horizon, a sort of far away look about her.

"It be the crow's nest for me," She said, squinting off into the distance.

"How unfortunate," Norrington raised his eyebrows.

"I volunteered for it," Charlie corrected him, shifting her position so that she was facing him.

"Why on earth would you do _that_?" He questioned her with a marked amount of confusion.

"For the same reason I do durin' the day," She shrugged. It seemed to Norrington as if she'd answered his question somewhat offhandedly, as if the answer was obvious and needed to be elaborated on no further in order to be understood.

"Care to enlighten me?" He pressed, edging his way closer to her.

"There's nothin' to tell," She said somewhat defensively, turning away from him and looking back out at the horizon.

"You said there was a reason, now do speak up," He insisted, leaning into her.

Charlie hesitated for a moment, slowly raking her teeth over her lower lip as she considered how to reply to him. "Only if ye promise not to laugh," She finally relented.

"You have my word," Norrington promised.

Charlie sighed, casting her gaze downwards as she tried to put together the right words to make him understand. At last she looked back up, returning her eyes to the sea before her.

"Alright," She began awkwardly, gripping the railing in front of her tightly, and pushing herself back a full arm's length, "When the ship gets to be a few days out to sea, like we are now, I can just scurry up the mast as I do and look out at the water and feel lost in it. I feel as if it just goes on forever… and I'm soarin' through it. Then at night, when ye can hardly tell sea from sky, with the wind on yer face, it's exactly like flyin', mate. And I –" She stopped and shook her head, turning away from him completely.

"And what?" Norrington asked, leaning over the railing to try to get himself back into her line of sight.

"And I don't know why I'm tellin' ye all this," She muttered incredulously, stepping back and folding her arms across her chest.

"Because I _asked_ you. Very politely, I might add," Norrington remarked, turning around so that he was leaning with his back against the railing again.

"Just forget it, eh?" She requested sharply, wheeling about so that her back was to him.

Norrington let out an exasperated sigh. Tough he noted with a sort of smug detachment that despite her wish to end their conversation, she hadn't left him, merely presented him with her back. He cocked his head to the side and studied her dark silhouette against the fading daylight and the soft lamplight of the ship.

"You're shivering," He said to her when he noticed the slight tremors running through her body.

"I'm fine," She insisted, but her shaking only worsened.

"Here, take my jacket," He offered, standing up straight and removing said article of clothing.

"I said I'm alright. I don't need yer charity." She continued to fight him on the issue, swinging back around to face him. It was clear to Norrington that she wasn't going to come and take the jacket on her own, so he went over to her.

"Oh please," Norrington replied sternly, taking his jacket in both hands and swinging it over Charlie's head and onto her shoulders, "It's not as if I'm going to be in dire need of additional warmth while I'm asleep in my cozy little hammock," He finished, grabbing onto the lapels of the jacket and giving them a good tug so that the jacket would fit snugly in place. But he overestimated his own strength and ending up pulling Charlie closer to him in the process. The action was so abrupt that she barely had time to react, and all she could do was bring her forearms up in front of her to brace against impact before she fell against him.

He looked down at her, suddenly very aware of how close she was to him. He was somewhat surprised at how small she seemed when she was this near to him: the top of her head barely cleared the level of his chin. She returned his gaze with curious fascination, her eyes remaining locked on his as he gently took a hold of one of her wrists and guided it out of the defensive position she had put it in.

"Oi! Charlie love!" Jack called down from above, snapping that infernal broken compass of his shut. Charlie quickly took a step back from Norrington and looked over her shoulder at Jack.

"Come up here for moment, eh?" Jack waved at her to join him.

Without another word she left Norrington, only pausing to look back at him when she reached the base of the steps and fumbling to get her arms through the sleeves of his coat as she ascended to the helm.

"Commodore!" Jack addressed Norrington while he waited for Charlie to reach him, "Where's your hat?"

Jack gave him an inquisitive look and Norrington snorted contemptuously and crossed his arms in response. It was just like Jack to ask some ridiculous question like that, as if Norrington's discarding of his hat and wig was to be the subject of keen and continuous curiosity to the pirate Captain.

When Charlie reached him, Jack put his arm around her shoulders and spoke quietly into her ear, momentarily glaring down at Norrington and making a show of brushing the dirt off of the jacket Charlie was wearing. Norrington watched them for a few moments before turning on his heels and heading below deck.

* * *

Charlie leaned over the sleeping figure, carefully slipping out of the dirty, tattered blue jacket. The hinges on the handle of the lantern she'd hung overhead squeaked as the ship rocked, and she looked up to make sure it wasn't about to fall. She let out a low sigh of relief when it didn't, and turned her attention back to the task at hand. She carefully lifted the jacket up, draping it over him like a blanket. She began to withdraw her hands, but paused when she felt the gentle brush of fingers over her arm.

"Did you go flying?" Norrington murmured sleepily as his eyes fluttered open.

"Aye…" Charlie whispered back to him.

Norrington grinned and closed his eyes again, shifting slightly in the hammock before drifting off to sleep once more.

Charlie quietly took the lantern down, opening the latch so that the protective glass window swung away, and blew the small flame out.

* * *

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	4. Day 5

**Title: **In Another Life

**Disclaimer: **Pirates of the Caribbean belongs to Disney, not me.

**Note:** Thanks to everyone who reviewed! You're all wonderful! Also, I'm sorry I didn't update sooner, but my computer recently freaked out on me and deleted my entire saved copy of this story, which had a lot of revisions my handwritten copy doesn't. So it took me awhile to re-type this, what with the editing and all that. Again, my apologies for the delay.

* * *

Land was spotted in the early hours of the morning, and by late afternoon the _Black Pearl_ had made her way down the island chain to the rendezvous point on the last outlying isle in the formation. Despite the fact that they were already running behind schedule, Jack permitted the crew to spend one night on the tiny island. The crew of the supply ship they were meeting there – called the _Sea Breeze_ – decided to stay over as well, and by sunset the two crews had set up a small celebration; complete with a bonfire, food, music, and, of course, rum.

Norrington sat on the beach, his back against a palm tree, enjoying a bottle of said intoxicating beverage. He took swig after swig of rum, relishing the familiar burn of the alcohol as he swallowed each mouthful. Not ten feet off, the two crews were gathered around the bonfire, enjoying their food and drinks while listening to a few members of the _Breeze_'s crew play some old tunes on a few assorted instruments.

Not wanting to be out done, a group of crewmen from the_ Pearl_ began to formulate a plot to build upon the festivities. Norrington watched them inquisitively as they schemed, then finally implemented their plan. The group sent Mr. Gibbs over to the musicians and he spoke with a fiddle player. The fiddler, who appeared to be the leader of the instrumentalists, nodded to Gibbs, then began to direct the rest of the players.

To Norrington's surprise, the next person that Gibbs accosted was Charlie. The _Pearl_'s crew whistled at and applauded her as Mr. Gibbs helped her to her feet, but she quickly hushed them and bashfully cued the musicians to start. They began to play a well-known song that Norrington had heard played in many taverns throughout the Caribbean. As the music commenced, Charlie turned towards her audience and curtsied – as well as she could in her pirate's attire, anyway – then began to dance along with the familiar melody. Her steps started off somewhat tentatively, and her spectators did little more than sway drunkenly to the rhythm; but as the song went on, she began to loosen up and the steps came more freely. She reached down and pulled a few others from the _Pearl _crew to their feet to join her, and the men who were left watching her clapped along with the beat. The crew members who had arranged the number toasted each other and called out to her encouragingly.

Norrington swallowed another gulp of rum, watching as she stepped and spun from partner to partner, every now and then reaching for a skirt that was no longer there. The way the tattered lace and fraying edges of what used to be her dress flutter as turned, how the light from the fire played over her, it all somehow made Norrington think she looked like some sort of ghost – the faded memory of her former life.

_The life in which that dress had been whole, _Norrington mused; her life in Tortuga. She could use all the delicate and socially-acceptable terms she knew to describe her previous profession, but it would do a poor job of veiling the truth of what had actually happened on all of those drunken nights in the unruly port city. _Working girl_ was just a pretty word for _whore_, and they all knew it. The way that the men she danced with put their hands on her was more than adequate evidence of that. As he drank, Norrington vaguely wondered if Charlie had slept with Jack the night she'd met him… though he quickly realized that the answer to that question should be self-evident.

Norrington shook his head, doing his best to push there thoughts aside as he watched her dance. The rum would wash them away soon enough as it was. It would wash everything away.

* * *

"Hello there," Charlie said as she flopped down in the sand beside Norrington. She propped herself up on her side with one elbow, absently drawing little circles in the sand while holding a half-empty bottle of rum in free hand.

Norrington, who was still leaning against the trunk of the palm tree behind him, his head tilted back to look up at the night sky through the boughs, raised his eyebrows and looked over at her out of the corner of his eye. He was clearly much more intoxicated than he was an hour ago.

"I came to ask ye," She went on when he didn't say anything to her in return, "If ye would care to join me for a bit of a dance, as it were."

Norrington sat up unsteadily, regarding some of the other crew members who were dancing around the bonfire. "No thank you," He snorted drunkenly, attempting to take another gulp of rum but only managing to cough and sputter it back up.

"Good Christ, James," Charlie snickered, setting her rum bottle down in the sand and reaching up to wipe some of the spilt rum off of his chin with the back of her gloved hand.

"What do you find so amusing about this?" Norrington asked indignantly, pushing her hand away. She reached for him again, but gave up on that particular attempt when he denied her for the second time.

"Ye're so drunk," She chuckled, pulling out a rag that had been tucked under her belt and cleaning up his rum soaked face with it.

"And you're not?" He retorted. He batted her away again and picked up her bottle, waving it in her face.

"No, not quite," She answered him, snatching the bottle out of his hands when he went to drink from it. She sighed and sat back, putting some distance between Norrington and the bottle. "Someone has to take care of the lot of ye come tomorrow mornin'."

"I see," Norrington nodded. He shifted his position, and then went to lean back against the palm tree again. In his inebriated condition, he misjudged the location of the tree and ended up missing the trunk completely, falling and he fell flat on his back in the sand, much to his companion's amusement.

Laughing uncontrollably at his drunken antics, Charlie crawled closer and leaned over him. "Are ye alright, mate?" She inquired, tucking her hair behind her ear so that it wouldn't obstruct her view.

Norrington propped himself up on his elbows and shook his head woozily. Blinking a couple of times to get the focus back into his eyes, he looked up at her, finding that he was now in a very unique position to admire her from.

"Never been better," Norrington smiled, craning his neck to find the perfect perspective.

Charlie drew her eyebrows together in confusion for a moment before she rolled her eyes and sighed as she realized just what he was smiling at. She sat back in the sand, holding out a hand to help him up. When Norrington only stared blankly at her instead of taking her hand, she took it back and went to grab him by the arm instead.

"I can manage, thank you," He said curtly, avoiding contact with her.

She threw her hands up in resignation, letting him try to right himself on his own. When was finally sitting up again, Norrington took another drink of rum, emptying the bottle with one last swig then tossing it aside. He looked back over at Charlie, who was glaring at him critically.

"Oh, like you've never been drunk before," He muttered crossly.

"Of course I have," She responded, taking a small sip of her own rum, "I didn't always have a crew of rum drinkin' pirates to be worryin' over all the time."

"Tortuga?" He asked., the first hint of emotion that Charlie had heard in his voice all night finally breaking through his drunken fog.

"Aye," She nodded, drinking from the rum bottle again.

"Oh," Norrington mumbled, carefully repositioning himself so he was leaning against the palm from once more.

"I'll tell ye what: that man there –" She pointed to Jack, who was sitting in the sand near the bonfire beside Will, enjoying his own bottle of rum and clapping in time with the music –"he got me away from all that."

"I'm sure you must have a great deal of affection for him, then?" Norrington glanced over at her, trying not to let on that he was almost hoping for a specific answer from her.

"That I do," She replied distantly, her eyes fixed on Jack.

Norrington shifted uncomfortably. He had gotten a sudden sinking feeling in his chest when he'd heard her answer, though he couldn't quite place why.

"Why do ye do it, eh? Gettin' drunk like this, I mean," She asked, turning back to face him and inching closer, "What do ye find so appealin' about it?"

"It makes me forget what I've done to myself," He answered quietly, taking her rum bottle and having a drink from it, "Which, ironically enough, is turn myself into a drunken deckhand who doesn't care for anyone but himself. Who will cheat, steal, and lie to get what he desires – no matter what the cost to others."

"No one thinks of ye that way, James," Charlie said sympathetically, taking her bottle back.

Norrington sighed and looked away. She'd find out just how wrong she was about him in time.

"I don't, anyway," She added after a moment.

Norrington glanced back up at Charlie, unsure of how to react to the first display of kindness that anyone had shown him in a long time. The ocean breeze that carried on it the cheerful music of the instrumentalists and the laughter of the crews picked up a bit, blowing Charlie's hair into her face. Norrington reached out and brushed her hair back, clumsily tucking it behind her ear.

"So, how about that dance, mate?" Charlie said quietly, changing the subject.

"You go ahead," He replied, folding his arms back behind his head and looking back up at the stars.

"Yer loss," She shrugged, slowly rising to rejoin the rest of the crew.

* * *

**Reviews are love!**


	5. Day 7

**Title: **In Another Life

**Disclaimer:** Pirates of the Caribbean belongs to Disney, not me.

**Note: **I would describe this chapter as short and sweet. Like, REALLY short. The next one will be much longer, I promise.

* * *

"If ye don't mind me askin', why does Jack keep callin' ye _Commodore_?" Charlie inquired, glancing over at Norrington as she took her brush out from the bucket of water between them.

Norrington sat back on his heels, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. They had been swabbing the deck in the late afternoon heat for what seemed like ages now, though the Captain Sparrow would most likely argue that they hadn't been at it for long enough. Norrington had noticed that the man seemed to get excessive amounts of pleasure from watching him performing menial tasks; to make matters worse, Jack never seemed to run out of aforementioned activities, truly making everyday an exercise in drudgery for Norrington. At least Charlie had taken pity on him today and lent a hand, not to mention some friendly conversation.

"Because that's what I used to be," He replied distantly, looking past her towards the watery horizon that was ablaze with the colors of the setting sun.

"A Commodore… in the Royal Navy?" Charlie stammered skeptically, dropping her brush onto the deck.

Norrington regarded her with an amused half-grin and slightly raised eyebrows. It was somewhat ironic to him that he should find himself in the in a position where a pirate could not make him for a member of the Royal Navy.

"I guess that would explain the uniform," Charlie continued almost to herself, bending down and getting back to swabbing the deck. "And the wig," She added under her breath.

"You didn't like my wig?" He questioned her, unsure of whether he felt offended or amused. He tossed his brush back into the bucket.

"No!" Charlie giggled, shaking her head, "Those things are all bloody awful."

"I was rather fond of mine," He replied with a hint of distaste for her words, which only made her laugh harder. "Oh, what is it now?" Norrington rolled his eyes and gave her a playful shove.

"I can't picture ye bein' in the Royal Navy," She remarked as he reached over and fished his brush out of the bucket.

"Why not?" He asked, giving her a pointed look.

Charlie paused, flipping her hair back over her shoulder and turning her head to the side to look over at him. Catching her breath as her laughter died down, she reached up and pulled her bandana off, then dabbed at the perspiration that had formed beneath it. "Because," She said, "Piracy really does suit ye, James." She smiled coyly at him, the light of the setting sun catching in her golden locks like a halo. Her gentle grey eyes sparkled, and the soft sea breeze ruffled her hair and clothing, making Norrington think she looked like the very visage of freedom itself.

He grinned back at her, and she turned back to her work. He watched her for a moment longer before he too bent and continued scrubbing.

* * *

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	6. Day 9

**Title: **In Another Life

**Disclaimer:** Pirates of the Caribbean belongs to Disney, not me.

* * *

"Oh bugger," Jack cursed as he threw open cabinet doors and pulled out desk drawers. He rummaged through his personal effects, growing increasingly frantic. The maps, the logs – even his secret stash of rum – were all gone. "Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger, BUGGER!"

The door to his cabin burst open, and Jack swung around with a start, his hand flying to the pistol tucked into his belt.

"Jack!" Charlie exclaimed, rushing towards him, "What's going on?" She asked anxiously, her concern etched deeply in her features. She reached him and took a hold of his arms just below his shoulders, her fingers twisting nervously through the fabric of his sleeves. "Mr. Gibbs just came runnin' up from below deck, shoutin' at us to cast off, then I find ye in here tearin' the place apart. Tell me what's wrong!"

Jack sighed, carefully taking her by the waist and guiding her back behind his desk. "It's like this, love –" He said, trying to break it to her gently – "If we don't leave now, we're caught."

"Caught? But… how?" Charlie stammered, her eyes widening.

"After we docked, I sent Mr. Gibbs ashore for business-type things and whatnot. I was below – minding my own – sorting the cargo when he came rushing in and said he's spotted agents of the East India Trading Company outside of one of our taverns. So I go rushing back up to me cabin," Jack paused to sweep his hand around the room, "And everything I had – maps, logs, the whole bloody lot of it – gone."

Charlie was silent for a moment, swallowing back a lump in her throat at the prospect of being put into the hands of the East India Trading Company. "I'll help the crew ready the ship," She said at last, nodding and pulling away.

"No." Jack caught her and held her back. "Stay here. Hide. If they board us you're to jump ship, you understand? I'll not have them getting to all me crew." As he spoke, Jack grabbed a hold of her arms and carefully pushed her back, sitting her down in his chair. He took a moment to drop to one knee before her, getting himself more or less at eye-level with her as he finished speaking.

Charlie leaned forward and slipped an arm around his waist, her lips silently working out the first syllables of the things she wished she could say. Her words, unable to find their way to her voice, fell mutely between them like raindrops from the storm clouds Jack so often fancied he saw in her eyes.

Jack had to look away in order to pull himself from her. He rose to his feet and turned, forcing himself to walk away.

"Jack!" Charlie finally managed to call out, jumping up to follow him before he even got half-way across the room.

"That's an order, love." Jack stopped short and looked back over at her.

"I'll not do it. I won't leave this ship, or the crew… or my Captain." She looked into his eyes when she'd finished protesting, stepping around him so that she blocked his path to the door and resumed grasping onto his sleeves as she had when she first entered the cabin.

Jack reached out and placed a hand on each of her bare shoulders, his fingers absently playing over her soft skin. "It's a death sentence, love. I won't have that for you," He argued quietly.

"And I won't be havin' it for ye, either," She retorted quietly.

"Sir!" Gibbs stuck his head in through the doorway, "It be the crew sir. We're one short!"

Jack pulled Charlie closer to him, maneuvered himself between her and the door, and nearly pulled out his pistol in surprise. Realizing that it was only Mr. Gibbs, he cleared his throat and relaxed his posture in an awkward attempt to appear nonchalant. "Who is it?" Jack asked, trying not to sound as if he'd been startled by Gibbs's sudden intrusion.

A shot was fired on deck. There was a collective gasp from the crew, and then everything was silent except for the sound of one voice calling out: "I'm looking for a Captain Jack Sparrow! _Jack Sparrow_! I know you're still on board, _Captain_!"

Jack looked back down at Charlie, his eyes pleading as he played with a lock of her hair. "Stay here," He said before letting go of her and striding out the door.

Charlie tried to go after him again, but Gibbs restrained her. "Get out while you still can," He whispered to her, shoving her back into the cabin and shutting the door.

* * *

"Cutler Beckett," Jack spat when the man turned around.

"Ah, Mr. Sparrow. We meet again," Beckett smirked triumphantly, taking a step towards Jack.

The entire crew was surrounded by a ring of soldiers with their muskets loaded, raised, and fixed with bayonets. Beckett himself had two gunmen beside him, one situated on each side; as well as another, more sinister-looking man lurking behind him.

"Arrest him," Beckett ordered his men, who swiftly approached Jack and wrangled him into a pair of irons. Beckett turned to leave, pausing for only a moment to issue another command. "Mr. Mercer," He addressed the man who had been standing behind him. The man stepped forward, and Beckett pointed at the door to Jack's cabin.

Jack lowered his eyes as Mercer entered the room. There was a muffled shout, and then Mercer reemerged, pushing Charlie along in front of him while holding her arms pinned behind her back.

Beckett momentarily regarded her with repugnance, then continued on his way. "The rest of you; I want the whole crew in irons and down on the dock in five minutes!" He ordered as he made his way down the gangplank, and the soldiers sprung into action.

* * *

Charlie knelt beside Jack with her hands bound in irons and the sharp end of a bayonet inches away from her face. Crew members were brought from the ship one by one, in much the same condition as Charlie and Jack, and then sat down behind their Captain. She'd seen everybody – save one – lead off of the _Pearl _by the time Beckett had called the search off.

She looked up at the surreal sight before her: East India Trading Company agents loading every last drop of rum from the _Pearl_ onto another, unmarked ship. The ship in question also blocked the view of the dock, so no one in Tortuga coherent enough to be suspicious of the transfer would be able to see what was going on under their very nose. As for Beckett, he was walking back and forth in front of his prisoners, his expression one of detached indifference.

"The lot of you," Beckett said, still pacing across the dock, "Are being charged with piracy, possession of stolen properties, and whatever other applicable charges I can find to assign to your cases. Either way you look at it, I regret to inform you that your punishment will most certainly be death."

"My, but do you ever hold a grudge, mate," Jack remarked, earning himself a jab in the side with the nearest bayonet.

"And my, but are you ever insufferably uncooperative, Mr. Sparrow," Beckett paused a moment in his pacing to address Jack.

"I pride myself on it," Jack muttered, cocking his head to the side when he looked up at Beckett.

"I've also noticed," Beckett went on, unfazed by Jack's antics, "That you are currently one crewman short."

"No, this be all of us," Charlie spoke up, recognizing this as perhaps her only opportunity to keep Beckett and the other agents off that one man's trail.

"Is that so?" Beckett asked. He stopped pacing, swung about, then approached her with slow, measured steps.

"Aye," She replied, looking him squarely in the eye.

Beckett nodded, signaling something to the guard standing over Charlie. The guard stepped forward and slid his bayonet up against her throat.

"Would you swear under pain of death that there was no one else on board this ship?" Beckett questioned her.

"That I would," Charlie answered stoically.

"Really, now?" Beckett almost laughed. "Mr. Mercer – bring him," He waved a hand at the same man who had found Charlie in Jack's cabin.

Mercer boarded the other ship, and soon he returned with two soldiers and Norrington – not shackled or held at gun-point, but rather _escorted_ – in tow. Charlie's eyes widened when she saw this, but she bit down on her lip and said nothing.

"I have a rather amusing story for you, Mr. Norrington," Beckett said to Norrington as he came down the gangplank, "The lovely Miss, ah," He paused, and then glared down at Charlie.

"Lumley," She informed him bitterly.

"Ah, yes. Miss Lumley here swore with a bayonet at her throat that you were never a part of this miserable crew. It would seem as if she lied."

Norrington glanced over at Charlie, a hint of desperation in his eyes despite his stilted demeanor.

"How very amusing, indeed," Beckett continued, "That she risked her life to protect the very man who put her in this position."

Norrington clenched his jaw at those words, refusing to look Beckett in the eye.

"Bastard!" Charlie spat at Beckett, straining to be free of the irons clapped around her wrists. Another guard rushed forward to detain her, pulling her arms taught behind her back so that her elbows were almost touching together.

"Betrayed by someone you considered to be your friend… perhaps even closer than that," Beckett resumed. Though he was addressing Charlie, he kept his eyes fixed on Norrington. "And betray you he did, there is no doubt there. He boarded your ship with one singular intention: to bring me a certain Captain Jack Sparrow and his precious _Black Pearl_. An objective which he has carried out magnificently." As he finished, Beckett raised both of his hands and gave Norrington a slow and resonant round of applause.

Norrington cast his gaze downward, continuing to remain silent even after Beckett had carried out such a ruthless character assassination.

"So it would seem as if your little gamble didn't pay off after all, Miss Lumley," Beckett turned his attention back to Charlie. "What do you have to say to that?"

"Go to Hell," She hissed furiously.

"Not before you," Beckett sighed complacently, nodding to the guard beside Charlie. The pressure of the bayonet against her throat increased.

"Wait!" Norrington said, reaching out and staying the man's hand. "You have Sparrow and the _Pearl_. I've upheld my end of our bargain, but you have yet to uphold yours. Ergo, she's not your prisoner to execute."

"My apologies, Mr. Norrington," Beckett said, reaching into his pocket and producing a small folded-up bundle. "Your Letter of Marque, _Admiral_."

Norrington hesitantly took the letter, opening it to check on its authenticity.

"No need to fret, Admiral. The letter is legitimate. Now, I do believer that Miss Lumley lied while under oath. Show her the consequences."

"You said they would be tried," Norrington interrupted again.

"Their trials will all end with death sentences. What does it matter if they die sooner rather than later?" Beckett gave Norrington a snide grin, catching on to the newly reinstated Admiral's plan.

"It matters to me," Norrington replied coldly.

"Now, you see, Admiral, I just gave you what you asked for when we made this little agreement. You've got nothing left to bargain with anymore."

At that, Norrington pulled out a pistol and held it inches away from Beckett's face, cocking back the hammer with a smug grin.

"I see your point," Beckett swallowed, waving the guardsmen away from Charlie. "I won't let anyone lay a finger on them until they've all been tried and convicted… does _that_ meet with your conditions?"

Satisfied with the result, Norrington lowered his weapon. As he did, Mercer swooped in and took the pistol out of Norrington's hand. He then handed it over to Beckett as he waved a disciplinary finger in Norrington's face.

"These pirates have really had an awful effect on you, Admiral," Beckett said, his voice thick with pompous distaste, "It'll do you good to be free of them. You shall captain the _Pearl_ until our return to Port Royal, at which point I don't want to hear any more about your continued involvement in the affairs of Jack Sparrow, his crew, his ship, or his little pirate wench here. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes sir," Norrington nodded, his eyes downcast.

"Now," Beckett continued, "Throw these scoundrels into the brig."

* * *

**Reviews are like oxygen, reviews lift me up where I belong, all I need is reviews! Please?**


	7. Day 12

**Title: **In Another Life

**Disclaimer: **Pirates of the Caribbean belongs to Disney, not me.

* * *

"Look on the bright side – there's a lovely view if you just look around the bars."

"I hadn't noticed," Charlie replied glumly, not even bothering to look up at Jack.

"C'mon, love. Things ain't all bad," He tried again, reaching his fingers through the bars. His fingertips brushed softly against her cheek, across a fresh tear track she would never admit was there. "You _are_ in here with me, which is what you said you wanted. And what's so bloody awful about getting your own way?"

"It ain't like that, and ye know it full well," Charlie whispered hoarsely.

"Just trying to help, love," Jack said quietly, withdrawing his hand.

Charlie sighed, looking back at her otherwise empty cell. She'd spent the majority of her time in the brig of the East India Trading Company's ship kicking at the door to her holding cell and making so much noise that eventually Beckett had sent Mercer down to keep an eye – as well as a loaded gun – on her. She'd of course protested the arrangement, reminding him that Beckett had promised that she would live to see a trial. Naturally, Mercer had replied that _Lord_ Beckett had only stated no one was to lay a finger on her, and had remained mum on the issue of musket balls. Charlie decided not to test out the legitimacy of that loophole and promptly settled into a sullen silence. When they had finally arrived in Port Royal, she'd been placed in her own cell, though by some miracle the prison was already crowded enough that the cell she was forced to occupy was next to that of the rest of the crew.

"Bloody hell!" She cursed, rising to pace furiously around the tiny space.

Jack turned away and leaned against the iron grate that was currently separating them. He shifted his position a few times before he finally got comfortable. When he did, he pulled his hat over his eyes, resigning himself to captivity for now.

It wasn't long before the thud of another set of footsteps joined Charlie's in the echoing corridor, though these footfalls sounded as if they came from a pair of fine high heeled shoes rather than old, worn-out boots. The crew perked up attentively, anxious to find out who those decidedly feminine footsteps were coming from.

"Elizabeth!" Will called out when he saw the owner of those shoes descending the stairs at the end of the hall.

"Will! I came as soon as I heard that you were here!" She called back, rushing up to the bars and positioning herself as close to Will as she could possibly get. "I'm going to get you out. They're changing the guard right now; if we hurry, you can make it out – all of you."

"Well, then get with the rescuin', lass!" Charlie piped up from the other cell.

"Use that bench there as a lever," Will instructed Elizabeth, "Just like the way I told you I sprung Jack from one of these cells, remember?"

"I remember," Elizabeth nodded, smiling admiringly at Will.

Charlie balked and rolled her eyes at this, and Elizabeth shot her a menacing glare as she worked the bench into position. The crew was freed soon enough, and Jack himself helped Elizabeth unhinge the door to Charlie's cell.

"Where's the _Pearl_ docked?" Jack asked Elizabeth as the crew collected their personal effects. Elizabeth just stared back at him, looking mildly confused.

"And the cargo? What did they do with that?" Gibbs took a turn at questioning her, growing increasingly alarmed.

"I – I don't know," She replied at length, unable to look any of them in the eye.

"But I know who would," Charlie intervened, grabbing Elizabeth's arm and pulling her closer. "Lass! Where be the offices of Admiral Norrington?"

* * *

Norrington sighed unhappily. He was growing weary of going through a veritable mountain of reports that required his signature on what seemed like every single page of dull dispatch. He replaced his quill in the ink well on the corner of his desk and leaned back, looking around his office with an air of affected boredom. He couldn't help but feel trapped inside his starched-stiff new navy blue and gold uniform, smothered by the layers of ruffles and brocade. Not to mention anything about the stuffy and snug new wig he'd been provided with. He was quite certain that his old wig had not been nearly as uncomfortable as this one. He rubbed his freshly shaven chin, momentarily taken aback by the absence of what had become the familiar roughness of his stubble.

Norrington yearned to put his feet up on the desk in front of him, but he knew that such a thing was not proper, and therefore impossible. He had become so bored from being held up in this drab little office all day. He sighed again, wishing that he could be out at sea… or at least that something of interest would happen.

Just then, as if some higher power had suddenly and immediately set about answering his prayers, the door to his office was violently thrust open and Charlie stormed into the room, her pistol held level before her and aimed, all too obviously, at him. Norrington sat up with a start, nearly jumping straight out of his chair. When he'd recovered from the shock of seeing her, he almost rose to go to her, but quickly thought better of it.

"Hello love," Charlie smiled sarcastically.

"Charlotte!" Norrington exclaimed, growing increasingly possessed of an overwhelming concern for the pistol that she kept trained on him.

"Keep yer wig on, Admiral. I'm only here about the _Pearl_," She said coldly, closing the distance between herself and Norrington's desk.

He looked up into her steely eyes, an expression of confusion and remorse prominent on his slack-jawed face. "Charlotte, how did you –"

"The _Pearl_, Admiral," She interrupted him impassively, "I'll ask ye once more: where is she?"

"Is… all of this really… necessary?" Norrington stammered, indicating her pistol.

In response, Charlie hopped up onto his desk and slid across it so she was sitting on the edge closest to Norrington then jammed the pistol under his chin.

"Please, just listen to me," He tried to reason with her. "You'll never make it out of here on your own. Let me help you –"

"I'll not be askin' ye again!" Charlie reiterated, cocking the hammer back on her pistol and pushing the muzzle harder against him. "Where's the _Pearl_?"

Norrington closed his eyes and swallowed back a lump in his throat – not out of fear, but out of a wrenching feeling of helplessness. She was determined to leave Port Royal, with or without him or his help… though he had to admit that her current emphasis was clearly on _without_.

"She's still at the same dock as when we first arrived," He answered. "I've created something of a hold-up in the paperwork necessary to make the acquisition legal, so Becket can't touch her."

"And the cargo?" Charlie pressed menacingly.

"In the hull – along with everything from the cabin. I've personally seen to that as well."

Without another word, Charlie withdrew, uncocking the pistol and returning it to its holster on her hip. She slid off the desk and began to cross to the door on the other side of the room.

"Charlotte, wait!" Norrington called after her, springing to his feet. "I didn't mean for all of this… there was nothing I could have…" No matter what he tried to say to her, she wouldn't stop. It was all just pathetic excuses anyway. They both knew it. "Charlotte, please! _Charlie_!"

She finally paused in the doorframe, her face at last betraying some manner of emotion when she turned to face him. Her features were twisted together as if in anger, but her eyes glistened with unshed tears that spoke more of pain than of rage.

"Ye shouldn't beg like that, _Admiral_. It doesn't suit a man of yer position," She managed to choke out before taking a hold of the door and slamming it shut.

Alone again, Norrington sank back down into his chair in misery.

* * *

**I can has reviews now?**


	8. Day 13

**Title: **In Another Life

**Disclaimer: **Pirates of the Caribbean belongs to Disney, not me.

**Note: **Sorry for the delay! School started so now I have significantly less free time to type than I used to. So, I think the story will kinda sit around and do nothing until next weekend… and you're all going to have to wait to see how it ends!

* * *

Charlie sat in the crow's nest, her head tilted back as her eyes absently scanned the stars overhead. The ship was a full day away from Port Royal now and if anyone had managed to follow them out of the harbor, the crew had yet to see them. Charlie should have been watching out for said pursuers, but she had stopped caring about the possibility of being recaptured long ago, and now she only stared blankly up at the night sky.

Soon, she heard the familiar creaking sound of someone climbing up the mast. She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut for a second, not being entirely in the mood for company at the moment.

"Oi! Charlie love!" Jack called up to her.

She turn her head to the side where Jack's voice had come from, waiting for him to finish the climb to the crow's nest.

After a short while, Jack's hand thrust up into view holding a large flask of rum aloft. He waved the bottle around a little as if he expected her to take it. When she didn't, he continued to climb by hooking his arm over the side of the crow's nest and slowly hoisting himself up to her level. Having accomplished this goal, Jack leaned forward and tried to swing a leg over the edge, but lost his balance when he did and tumbled into the crow's nest, landing in a tangled heap on top of Charlie.

"Good news, mate," He said as he tried to right himself, "I've brought the rum."

Charlie regarded him with a reluctant half-smile, taking the aforementioned bottle out of his hand and pulling the stopper out. She took a swig as Jack finally managed to disentangle himself from her and sit up.

"You're welcome," He prompted her, raising his eyebrows and giving her a strong poke in the arm.

"Thankee, Jack," She muttered after she'd swallowed back her last mouthful of rum. There was still a good amount of alcohol left in the bottle, so she replaced the stopper and set the container down next to her for later use.

"Lovely evening we've got out here," Jack began when Charlie didn't say anything more, nodding thoughtfully to himself. "There's the sky, some stars, I think there may even be a cloud over that way … and if you just look over there you can—"

"Cut to the chase, Jack," Charlie interrupted his rambling, looking over at him with a humorless expression. "Why did ye really come up here?"

"Just wanted to know how you're holding up, love," He answered sincerely.

"How do ye _think_ I'm holdin' up?" She shot back. She was not overly-fond of feeling pitied, even though it hadn't been Jack's intention to come off that way.

"That bad, eh?" Jack winced, pulling away from her a bit.

"Aye," She said tersely, retrieving the bottle of rum from the floor and taking another long draught. "I'm a bloody awful pirate," She grumbled when she had finished, offering the bottle to Jack.

"Now what makes you say that?" He inquired, downing a gulp of rum.

"What kind of self-respectin' pirate gets this way over a damned Commodore in the Royal Navy?" She continued acerbically.

"Happens more than one might think, I'm sure," Jack said awkwardly as he handed the flask back to her.

"I'll not ask," Charlie remarked with a measure of confusion.

"You're better off not knowing… trust me," Jack affirmed, his lips curling back and his eyes bugging out a little at the thought.

* * *

**Please Review!**


	9. 2 Months Later

**Title: **In Another Life

**Disclaimer: **Pirates of the Caribbean belongs to Disney, not me.

**Note: **Last chapter, oh my! Many, many thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, and otherwise adored this story. Twas fun while it lasted.

* * *

Jack strolled leisurely into the cabin, leaving the rest of the crew to ready the ship for departure from port without him. He quietly hummed an old sea-faring tune to himself as he closed the doors behind him, and had begun to cross the room when he caught a glimpse of something out of place sitting on his desk that stopped him in his tracks. 

"That's interesting," Jack muttered as he studied the object. It was a black three-cornered hat decorated with gold brocade and white ruffles, and in near perfect condition – far too nice for the likes of anything one would expect to find on a pirate ship.

He approached the hat slowly, cautiously lifting it from its resting place and examining it from all angles. There was something vaguely familiar about the thing… he just couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"So that's where I left my hat," A voice drifted out from one of the dark corners of the cabin.

Jack looked over in the direction the voice had come from in time to see Norrington taking a few measured steps towards him. The Admiral was wearing a clean new uniform, though Jack noted that he had chosen to forgo the wig that day. Instead, Norrington's freshly dirt free brown hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail at the nape of his neck.

"That's _very_ interesting," Jack mumbled, his eyes widening. He hastily replaced the hat and gave it a little pat as if he were afraid he had somehow offended the object.

Norrington rolled his eyes and came closer, standing imposing before Jack.

"Admiral!" Jack exclaimed, shifting uncomfortably under Norrington's scrutinizing gaze. "This is certainly… unexpected."

"As you were, Sparrow. I'm not here for you." Norrington sighed with annoyance.

Jack shrunk away from the taller man, swinging around the desk so that he could have something solid between himself and Norrington.

"Does Charlie know you're here?" Jack asked, eyeing the Admiral suspiciously.

"No… no, she does not," Norrington admitted hesitantly.

"Well, what were you planning to accomplish here, then?" Jack questioned Norrington wryly, recognizing his opportunity to regain control of the situation. "You thought you'd just hop onto the _Pearl_, all unannounced and the like, and woo a certain member of my crew with one meaningful gaze from those stunning green eyes of yours, is that it?"

"Pardon me?" Norrington stammered, taken aback by Jack's ascertains.

"What?" Jack shot back, sounding just as confused.

"Excuse me?"

"Huh?"

"What are you –?"

"Now you're just not making any sense, mate," Jack interrupted, pointing a reproachful finger in the Admiral's direction.

Norrington's expression, which had been slowly transforming from stern to puzzled, was now one of sheer bewilderment. "This is ridiculous," He said under his breath, turning to leave.

"Oh, Admiral!" Jack waved at Norrington as he went after the retreating officer.

Norrington wheeled about, casting a dark glance down at Jack, who cringed and recoiled, bending backwards while holding his hands in front of his face to avoid the implied wrath of the Admiral.

"You forgot your hat," Jack informed him meekly, reaching back and fumbling about for the object in question. Finally managing to procure the item, he dangled it enticingly in Norrington's face. He even gave the hat a little shake to prompt the Admiral to take it.

"Jack," Charlie burst into the cabin, "I was just out workin' with the riggin' and… I… noticed…" Charlie's voice trailed off when recognized the figure standing over Jack.

Norrington looked over his shoulder at her, his daunting expression softening when he saw her.

"Never mind, I'm sure it'll be just fine," Charlie said all in one breath as she quickly exited the cabin.

"Charlotte, wait a moment," Norrington called after her, following her out.

Jack suddenly found himself alone, still holding Norrington's hat. He promptly lowered his arm and took the hat in both of his hands, drumming his fingers along the brim. He stared out the open door for a minute, but when Norrington didn't return for the hat, he glared suspiciously around the cabin, making sure there would be no additional intruders, then crept over to his desk and sat down sideways in the chair behind it. He surveyed the room once more before he removed his own hat and placed in on the desk. Jack smiled smugly to himself as he put on Norrington's hat, nodding with satisfaction as he lounged.

* * *

"Give me one good reason why I should listen to ye!" Charlie yelled over her shoulder at Norrington as she ascended the stairs to the helm, the only place on the ship currently unoccupied by swarms of bustling crewmen. 

"Because I care for you, Charlotte," Norrington replied desperately as he went after her.

"Care for me?" She stopped short at the top of the steps, then swung around to face Norrington. "Ye arranged to have me hanged! Ye call _that_ carin' for me?"

Norrington had been forced to halt abruptly when she did; remaining several steps below her while she spoke. He now stepped forward, slowly advancing up the stairs towards her. She slowly backed away to maintain the distance between them until she bumped up against the wheel. She held her ground there, placing her one hand on her defensively while she drummed the fingers of her other hand against the wheel.

"Charlotte –" Norrington addressed her cautiously, taking another step in her direction. She regarded him heatedly, her gaze bearing down on him like a storm at sea. He paused for a moment and cleared his throat before going on. "I made a mistake when I turned you over to Beckett. I wish I could change what happened, but I cannot. I was… a desperate man then… a different man than I am now. I am here to ask for your forgiveness… though I doubt that I deserve it."

"That's a lovely speech. how much time did ye spend rehearsin' it?" Charlie asked quietly, looking down at the hand she'd positioned on the wheel.

"About a month," Norrington answered sheepishly. He came closer, placing his hand beside hers on the wheel. Charlie bit down on her lip and nodded.

"I spent the past month rehearsin' my own speech," She said at length, still not looking up at him. "It was about all the things you could do with that wig of yours."

He flinched at her words, but still went to cover her hand with his own. She yanked her arm away, going around the wheel towards the stairs on the other side of the landing.

"Wait," Norrington stepped in front of her and blocked her path.

"Get out of my way, James," She said in a near-whisper, folding her arms and looking down at her boots.

"No," He retorted, reaching out and taking a hold of her arm so that she wouldn't try to go around him. "Not until you give me an answer. Do I have your forgiveness – yes or no?"

"James, I…"

"Yes or no?" He interrupted her hoarsely.

"Ye got what ye wanted, James. Can't ye just leave me be?" Charlie replied bitterly, trying unsuccessfully to pull her arm from his grip.

"This is _not_ what I wanted, Charlotte," He protested softly.

"Then what did ye want, eh?" She shot back.

Norrington said nothing in return. His grip on her arm loosened gradually, until at last he let go of her and allowed his hand to fall back down to his side.

"Look, mate," Charlie sighed, "Even if I did say I forgive ye, things would never work out betwixt the two of us. I'm a pirate, and ye're in the Royal Navy. I know that ye wouldn't resign yer commission again anymore than I would quit piratin'. Think about it, James. We live in two separate worlds, ye and me. Please… just go back to Port Royal, tis where ye belong. Maybe I'll be seein' ye in another life, eh?" She smiled sadly at him and then turned again, heading for the stairs behind her.

"Charlotte," He called after her once more. She glanced back at him over her shoulder.

"Perhaps it'll be sooner than you think," Norrington said, reaching into his jacket pocket and removing a small slip of paper that had been folded in half. He placed it into her hand and closed her fingers over it, giving her his own small smile before he left.

Wrinkling her brow in confusion, she looked down at the paper in her hand and then carefully unfolded it. On the inside, an address had been written in Norrington's careful handwriting. Below the address, in smaller lettering, were the words _For when you're in the neighborhood_.

Charlie's jaw nearly dropped to the deck in surprise as she read the note for a second, then a third time. She looked up, searching the busy crowd of crewmen for Norrington. She quickly spotted him making his way over to the gangplank. Just before he got there, though, he paused and looked back up at her. He grinned contentedly, then turned and made his way down the ramp.

"Oi, Charlie! Quit dallying and get back to work! This ship ain't gonna sail itself!" Mr. Gibbs shouted from down on the deck, waving at her to get back up into the rigging.

Charlie glanced back down at the paper one more time before folding it up again and shoving it into her trouser pocket.

"Aye, sir! Right away!" She called back to Gibbs. With a wide smile on her face, she bounded down the stairs and over to the main mast.

* * *

**The End**. 


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